


for every person you used to be

by womaninthewindow



Category: Slender Man Mythos, Stan Frederick
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Manipulation, Murder-Suicide, Non-Consensual Kissing, Pre-Canon, Self-Hatred, Snow White Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womaninthewindow/pseuds/womaninthewindow
Summary: four first kisses between stan and connor
Relationships: Stan Frederick/Connor Dwight
Kudos: 3





	for every person you used to be

i. March 17th, 2011

The park is quiet. It's difficult to find a place in this part of New York that can be described as such, so he appreciates it when he can. A car is running somewhere in the distance, far enough away for them to be safe. The pattering of feet on grass, the sweep of Connor kicking something out of the way. It’s a calm Stan had almost forgotten. It's also very convenient no one comes out here late at night. No one but them. 

Connor bursts into laughs every few steps. Tonight was good. Weeks of planning, scouting, finding their perfect victim-- the person that would set them free. He always tells himself that this will be the last one. The man in the suit will finally be satisfied with their work and they can tuck back into the real world like this was a bad dream.

Stan stumbles on a tree branch, barely holding himself up. He never gets used to this part. He watched that thing, the monster, reach out for the young boy they had lead near the bushes. Kid had no idea what was coming for him. Connor grabbed him and forced him to run before the monster did _whatever_ it does. Stan wonders if he would've stayed to watch.

It's scary how easy it is to get away with it.

"Stan." 

He looks up. He didn’t realize he stopped walking. Connor stands in front of him, his smile faltering but not quite gone. He motions for Stan to catch up and he hurries to his side. Stan nearly jumps out of his skin when Connor wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close.

“You did good.” Connor comments. The rare praise makes Stan struggle to walk again. Connor doesn’t let go. Stan giggles, nervously, maybe excitedly. Aside from holding hands under the table with Susan when Connor isn't paying attention, no one holds Stan anymore. Connor isn’t an affectionate person, not even Susan is allowed to get close without him getting agitated, so the half-hug from him is nice. It's really nice. Stan presses his face against Connor's shoulder, savouring in the moment. He and Connor spend every day together but they’ve never felt like friends. There were no fun, easy memories between them. Maybe this is what it takes. When the monster is gone, he and Connor can be friends for real. He pulls back enough to look up at Connor's face, to see the approving look he’s been hoping for. 

And then Connor's hand slides up to the back of his neck, and Connor kisses him.

Stan stares upward, his mind refusing to react to what’s happening. The urge to force Connor away is immediately overtaken by something stronger, bleeding into the front of his brain that begs he can't lose Connor. Connor is the one keeping them alive, Connor knows what he’s doing. This is fine, it has to be. He closes his eyes, holds the hem of Connor’s jacket, not pushing away, but not pulling him closer either. Connor’s taller than him, so Stan has to keep his head lifted up. 

The moment passes painfully slow until Connor shoves against Stan defensively, turning away. He doesn’t look back. “Don’t do that again, and I won't tell Susan.” 

Stan wants to bite that Connor was the one that started it, but knows getting into a fight this late isn’t worth it. Tomorrow they’ll pretend to be normal children, until one of them starts seeing unnaturally long limbs in the corners of their eyes and in the trees.

Stan rubs the sleeve of his sweatshirt against his mouth, and follows Connor home.

ii. December 21st, 2012. September 6th, 2016.

Plenty of monsters show interest in him when he first confronts them, sure. He’s an anomaly in and of himself. Stan should’ve known better. It said his real name. It knew who he was. He was _excited_ to find something new. What a fucking joke. 

The smell of blood in the air is too familiar. Serena’s dead and it’s because of him. Him, _and Connor._ The ghost that's haunted his head for years has decided to come back to the living, hungry to tear apart any piece of Stan he missed. The years he’s taken from Stan aren’t enough. He won’t be satisfied until everyone that’s ever heard the name Stan Frederick is a corpse at his feet.

Oh, Serena. 

He shouldn’t have brought her along. How fucking stupid is he to keep dragging people into his problems? It rips through him. The air is too heavy to breathe. His best friend is dead and he can’t do anything but sit there like a terrified child. He has to wonder how many children he put into this exact position all those years ago. Karma’s come back for him hard and it’s from the only person that deserves it more than him.

Connor finishes off his monologue that Stan heard nothing of. He sits crouched at eye level. His head tilts. He balances himself on his free hand as he leans inward. 

“Close your eyes, Stan.” Connor wags the gun in front of his face. Stan complies and he hates himself for it. Everything in him screams to fight, to run away, to do _something you pathetic loser,_ but Stan stays paralyzed. Connor is closing in. Cloth brushes against his neck. Connor lays his palm across it, pressing his thumb against the artery under his chin. Choking, how intimate. Of course he’d want to be up close to personally watch the life in Stan’s eyes flicker out. He struggles to swallow against the pressure. It makes Connor laugh, low and deep in his chest. 

Stan’s eyes fly open when Connor crashes their mouths together. Stan forces his hands between their chests and tries to push him away. Stan’s not a big guy, but Connor isn’t much bigger. The cold press of metal digging into his side doesn’t stop him. His gloved hand tightens around Stan’s jaw. The mask’s fabric feels wrong against his lips. Everything about this is wrong. Connor’s not attracted to him, he would have noticed that years ago, it’s a new form of psychological torture for him to play with. He’s probably got a whole list ready of techniques to test out from the years spent in waiting.

Connor grabs a handful of Stan’s hair and rips him backwards. Stan winces and represses a pained groan. Connor rises and looks down at him. His face is unreadable behind the mask but Stan’s mind provides an ugly smile from his memory to fill in the blanks. Connor takes a step back, points his gun at Stan one last time, and makes his way up the stairs. 

Once he’s out of the room, everything snaps back into focus. Stan forces himself to stand and bolts after him, a scream building in his throat. 

Upstairs, a camera lies abandoned on the shelf. The blinking red record light has never felt so judgmental.

iii. July 2nd, 2017

His hands aren’t shaking. He thought they would be. The gun is warm against his palm. Five shots, one left in the round. Maybe it was overkill but Stan’s spent enough of his life chasing Connor. He’s going to stay dead this time. 

And dead he is. Connor’s head lies twisted against the floor. He landed at an odd angle, half slumped on his shoulder. Something in Stan compels him to crouch down and fix it. He rolls Connor on his back and straightens his head. He doesn’t deserve the mercy, but Stan’s always been the better friend. The mask rides up against his neck and exposes a sliver of skin. He cradles Connor’s face between his hands, Connor offers no resistance. Stan slips his thumbs under the fabric. It drags it upwards. The rest of the neck. Then his jawline. He stops above the mouth, unsure if he wants to know what Connor looks like now. 

Stan should be happier about this. He was laughing a minute ago, right before their conversation. Before he pulled the trigger. Was that the first time they were ever honest with each other? It makes sense that the only time Connor could see him as an equal was staring down the barrel of his gun. His lips are parted and losing color. He looks young. Stan can see the red pooling on the floor where he previously laid.

He’d never be able to explain what made him lean the rest of the way down to kiss him. A sudden rush of pity for the person he could have been, or the frightened teenager he never stopped being. It would always come down to the two of them. They were partners, friends, brothers, alibis, strangers, enemies. All of them at once, none of them at the same time. The kiss is light, a goodbye more than anything romantic. 

Stan drops him, suddenly feeling far too aware of what he was doing. He really is losing it. He doesn’t look back as he heads for the door. One bullet left. He's still got work to do.

iv. September 5th, 2009

Evan’s trying not to think about it. There’s no other option, he’s content in that, but knowing you’re going to die by the end of the night makes it hard not to have regrets. Shockingly, he didn’t get to do a lot in life by age 13. He’ll never make his feature movie. He’s never gonna have his own family. He’s never been in love. He’s made one whole tentative friendship while being shuffled around various foster homes, and he’s not even going to be able to miss him. This is how the world ends. It ends in a million ways, everyone living out their own tragedy. Evan’s just going out on his own terms. 

He’s pulled out of his headspace by Doc Brown shouting something on screen. By his side, Connor takes another drink. Evan watches his throat bob and makes his second choice of the night.

“Connor.” 

His partner turns his head towards him. Evan motions for him to come closer, and he does. Evan leans the rest of the way across the aisle and presses his mouth against his. It’s a strain, they’re farther apart than he realized and he has to grab onto Connor’s shoulder to prevent himself from falling over onto the floor. Connor goes rigid but doesn’t pull away. He isn’t in love with Connor, but they’re all each other has. It feels fitting.

He tastes like coffee.

Evan lets go and settles back into his seat. Connor’s face is marked with confusion, but he doesn’t offer an explanation. Evan reaches for his cup and turns back towards the movie. Erik's favorite part is coming up.

**Author's Note:**

> my friend told me "snow white kiss" is an acceptable alternative to "corpsesmooching" so if it's not, my apologies. (if you know a better tag let me know OTL)
> 
> there was a 5th part that was self indulgent real world au as the 'happy ending' but i took it out because it felt out of place/out of character. i guess if anyone other than me wants to see it i could post it as a second chapter.


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